Fashion plate from the Musée des Familles/Modes Vraies for April, 1878. Engraved by E Gervais after an illustration by Rigolet.

Comptoir des Indes, 129, Boulevard Sébastopol.

Compagnie Irlandaise, 36, rue Tronchet.

~~~~~

There was a light at the end of the rows. 

Silvaineaux had expected to find the stables almost entirely dark, the birds curled to sleep in their straw, the night lanterns turned low. At this nightmare filled hour of the morning the grooms would be abed, and no one save Joyeux needed to know if the Baron came to share the warbird’s straw for the remainder of the night. But when he had reached Joyeux’s stall he could see a light blazing away in one of the equipment rooms.

Blowing out his own candles and putting a finger to his lips to warn the chocobo to silence he crept toward that light. His heart was hammering again by the time he reached the doorway, but the moment he saw the source of that light the tension eased from him. Gervais sat atop a bale of straw in the equipment room, humming away to himself as he worked at something.

Silvaineaux thought he ought to say something but for a moment he was too fascinated. The groom’s rough hands moved, one over the other, turning a bundle of leather cords into a neat length of something else. It looked like a whip, Silvaineaux thought as he watched, but it had never occurred to him to consider how they were made, how that vicious length of leather with its almost serpentine texture came to be. He could not make out the trick of it no matter how he watched, the pattern of cords seemed almost random, and yet ilm by ilm gleaming leather whip unspooled from Gervais' clever hands.

Finally Silvaineaux cleared his throat, a small warning before he spoke. “Is that a whip?”

“Halone’s frosty nipples, my Lord! But I didn’t see you there.” Gervais took a deep breath and settled back onto his bale. “Begging your pardon, my Lord. Yes it’s a whip. Oh but not for our birds of course. Wouldn’t need such a thing for them.”

Silvaineaux raised his eyebrows, stepping into the room for a closer look. “What is it for then?” 

“Oh I… well… I sell them. I know a fellow works at a shop in Crozier and the owner there will buy them. No idea what people want with them after that.”

Silvaineaux might have suggested a few thoughts of his own on what people might use them for, but something else troubled him. “Do I not pay you enough?” He asked, reaching out to finger the leather thoughtfully.

Gervais looked rather abashed. “It isn’t that at all, my lord. You pay me plenty. It’s just sometimes of a long night I like to sit and keep my hands busy and it might as well be at something with a purpose. It’s fun to save up a bit extra and it gives me money to buy more of the cording.”

Silvaineaux nodded. “I think I can understand that very well.” His thumb ran over the leather again and he considered for a moment whether it was a horrible imposition to ask. “Do you suppose you could teach me?” He asked finally, watching Gervais face for any sign he should retract his request.

Gervais considered him. “I don’t know why not, my Lord, though if you want to sell them…”

Silvaineaux understood that hesitation readily enough. “I have no desire to jeopardize your arrangement with the shopkeeper nor to sell my own.” He took a deep breath considered, and then let the words fall quietly between them, the sort of confession one might only offer in the small hours of the morning. “It is only that… I do not really know how to make anything but corpses. I think I might like to.”

Gervais looked at him for a long moment, his eyes full of something that Silvaineaux did not want to look at too closely. He was not quite sure whether it was revulsion or pity and his pride rebelled at either thought. But at last the groom smiled. “I think I can understand that very well.” He said slowly.

“I will of course pay you for the cording.” Silvaineaux added.

Ricky Gervais is hilarious. 

Dave Chappelle is hilarious, too.

Disclaimer: I’m a transman.

Transwomen need to learn to have a sense of humor. Gay men, too. Transwomen need to learn that they can’t bully and harass comedians into being politically correct. That’s not how comedy works.

Not being able to laugh at themselves is what’s making everyone uncomfortable around transwomen. It’s NOT their fragile “gender identity” that repulses everyone- it’s their inability to laugh at themselves. It’s their inability to allow ANYONE to mock them that makes everyone uncomfortable around them.

Jewish people suffered the holocaust. Yet, Jewish comedians have joked about that. Jewish comedians make fun of themselves and their community ALL THE TIME. If a group that has suffered as much as the Jewish community has can make fun of themselves, why can’t trans women? 

I’m a transman. I never see transmen get upset about comedians making fun of them, NOT unless there’s someone from the LGBT+ community pressuring/brainwashing them into it (which would usually be a transwoman or a gay man- lesbians/transmen don’t care about this stuff).

Do you think I give a damn whether comedians make jokes at my expense? Do you think I care if they mock me for being transgender? No. 

It’s COMEDY. It’s supposed to be FUNNY. You’re not supposed to take comedy seriously, transwomen/gay men. 

Learn to laugh, transwomen/gay men. You sexist, narcissistic XY imbeciles are ruining it for everyone, especially for the XX community. 

I hope these brave comedians continue to mock the transgender community. As a transman, I am sick and tired of this stupid brainwashed community full of fake smiles and phoney laughs; a community that behaves more like the church of scientology than a group full of “love”. I don’t see “love” when I look at the transgender community now- I see death threats against JK Rowling, I see Dave Chappelle being assaulted, and I see death threats against mostly people with XX chromosomes. 

When I look at the transgender community now, I mostly see misogyny.

The transgender community isn’t a community of “love”. At this point, it’s essentially a cult of mostly brainwashed people who feel the need to stalk/harass anyone they feel threatened by- just like scientologists. Instead of talking about “thetan levels” or “going clear”, the transgender cult is all about not being “cisgender”, calling out “terfs”, or “finding your authentic self”. All these stupid fake words and memorized slogans are an insult to intelligent life everywhere. I refuse to use them.

Can anyone explain to me the difference between the church of scientology and the transgender community? I don’t see much difference these days. 

Learn to laugh at yourselves, XY people... and allow others to mock you, too. 

Sincerely,

-a transman

p.s.